


Doubt

by notbloodylikely



Category: British Royal Family, British Royalty RPF, The Crown (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Doubt, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I continue to torture myself with this ship, Love, Royalty, Secret Relationship, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-21 18:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30026223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbloodylikely/pseuds/notbloodylikely
Summary: When Tim learns about someone who was in Anne’s life before him, it leads him to question whether her feelings for him are real. But should he really be concerned?
Relationships: Anne | Princess Royal (1950 - Present)/Timothy Laurence (1955 - Present)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CalvinHGatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalvinHGatsby/gifts).



“Newspapers, Sir.”

“Thank you, John.” Tim Laurence smiled at his valet who laid the morning papers down on his desk for him, accompanied by a strong cup of coffee. They exchanged pleasantries and mulled over last night’s football results before the valet left the equerry to read the news of the day.

But while scanning through _The Times_ , _The Daily Telegraph_ and _The Independent_ , Tim found he could barely concentrate. It was Friday, and before he went home for the weekend when he finished for the day, he would be going across to St. James’s Palace to spend the night with a certain Princess, who was now consuming his thoughts and leaving him unable to read a single sentence uninterrupted.

Since they had begun seeing each other, it was rare that he had been able to spend the night in Anne’s arms and wake beside her the following morning. Making time for one another was always difficult, but this weekend had been perfect for her, seeing as her children were staying with their paternal grandparents and she wouldn’t be picking them up until Sunday. Her husband was once again out of the country on business - and, it was safe to assume, a considerable amount of pleasure.

Tim was so wrapped up in his thoughts of her and how they would be spending their time later, he thought he might be imagining her name written on the page in front of him. But he wasn’t imagining it. Facing him was yet another double-page spread focusing on the rocky state of Princess Anne and Mark Phillips’s marriage, stirred up again by the rumours that he had been having candlelit dinners in his hotel with his PR consultant on his trip to Canada the previous week.

Of course, Tim knew all about it. Anne had told him about her husband’s continued infidelity long ago. Nothing surprised her anymore, but it was always painful for her when it was raked up again in the newspapers for all to see. Whether this one was true or not didn’t matter: the marriage was long over. Anne had tried and failed for years to hold things together and fix their relationship, but it had become clear that Mark didn’t share her wishes, and she had given up, and eventually sought comfort elsewhere.

Despite being more knowledgable than most about the subject of the article, Tim read on, eventually reaching a paragraph that listed Anne’s own supposed infidelities. As he read each bolded name, he knew the real story behind them - which was that there was no story at all. Or so he thought, until he reached one: Sergeant Peter Cross.

It wasn’t someone he’d ever heard of before, and he was certain he’d never heard Anne mention him before. Reading on, he learned that he had been her police protection officer for less than a year, leaving in 1980 after becoming “ _overfamiliar with the princess_.”

Tim felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to stop reading, but subconsciously he wanted to know more, and couldn’t stop himself once he got started.

_“Cross described how their affair began on the backstairs at Gatcombe... She confided her troubles to him as her marriage began to break down... He claimed the Princess would snuggle up to him on the sofa in front of the television... they had intimate meetings in the library, in a lodge on the estate... Cross claimed that he had fallen in love with her, and believed she felt the same... ”_

When he finally closed the newspaper, Tim was in a cold sweat, the words playing over and over in his mind. He kept telling himself it was nothing but tabloid fodder; a disgruntled employee trying to cash in, but the whole thing had unsettled him mainly because of the similarity to his current situation. A relationship between a princess and a member of staff whom she had confided in about her marriage woes that was then taken from her... Why hadn’t she told him about this? She’d told him everything else. Or at least he thought she had.

The more he thought, the more he found himself doubting everything, and he hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help it. What if she _had_ loved him? Wanted to be with him? Reading over it again, it all made sense, and he knew that there must be more to it, but in that moment, he couldn’t see past the ink on the page. If she had been in love with this other man that was taken away from her, where did that leave him?

He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the telephone ringing on his desk, and when he picked it up, a familiar voice greeted him on the other end.

“Hello, you. How are things?” Despite his sudden reservations, her voice never failed to make his heart swell.

“Uhm.. Yes, fine..”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“No, I am.. I just didn’t sleep very much last night.”

“Oh, poor baby. Well I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not going to let you sleep much tonight either,” he could tell she was smiling, could hear the restrained excitement in her voice. “9:30 alright?”

“Yes, 9:30’s fine.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” she sighed, and he wondered how many times she had said that to Peter Cross. He felt disgusted with himself for even thinking it, but he was confused, didn’t know how to feel. Worse, he didn’t know how she felt about him. Did she feel anything for him? Or was he just a replacement?

“...Tim? Hello?” 

“Yes, sorry, I’ve got someone coming in in five minutes. I’ll see you tonight.” And with that he hung up, wondering how he was going to get through his day, and how on Earth he was going to face her later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their plans to spend the night together blow up in Tim’s face after he tells Anne what he’s read and questions her feelings for him.

All day long, that damned article had consumed his thoughts, sent his mind into overdrive and left him worried, and with so many questions that by the time he got to her apartment, Tim was ready to burst. When Anne appeared at the door to let him in, all he wanted to do was come straight out and ask her.

But before he had the chance, he felt her arms slip around him as she nestled her face into his chest, whispering to him how much she’d missed him, how happy she was to see him. The warmth of her body against his, her arms tightly enveloping him, the scent of her perfume filling his senses, intoxicating him, he found it impossible not to embrace her, kiss her hair and return her affection. For a moment, all doubt in his mind was gone and there was only her. He loved her so much, he couldn’t even understand it.

Feeling almost dazed from her presence, he let her take his hand and lead him into her sitting room. She took his coat as he sat down, and while she went to hang it up, the doubts he had felt throughout the day began to creep in again. He wanted to forget about them, file them away in the back of his mind and happily bask in Anne’s affection for the rest of his days. But they were there, and they weren’t going away. Driven by hurt, confusion and the fear that he might lose her, the words in that article, _his_ words, began to play over in his mind once more as Anne appeared from the hallway.

“Well, would you like a glass of something? Or something to nibble on?”

“No thank you.”

“Suit yourself. I think I’d like something to nibble on,” she purred. Eyeing him like prey, she crawled into his lap and kissed him hungrily, running her fingers through his soft, dark hair before she began to kiss and nip at his neck, her hands slowly moving down to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

But then she stopped. Tim’s arms were laying still by his sides, his hands on the couch, and not on her. His lips hadn’t returned her kisses, and leaning back from him, she examined the blank expression he wore. He wasn’t even looking at her.

“Hey,” she spoke softly, her hand cupping his cheek, “what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, but couldn’t bring himself to ask her, couldn’t force himself to say the man’s name that had plagued his mind all day.

“Tim?” Finally meeting her eyes, he saw the concern in them, and he knew it was now or never. He took a deep breath.

“What you said about, your feelings for me.. the way you feel about me, and the way that I make you feel... did you mean it?”

Anne’s look of concern turned to confusion, and she let out a nervous laugh. “Where did that come from?”

“Please, just answer the question, Anne.”

“Yes! Of course I meant it, every word of it! Now answer _my_ question, what the hell is the matter with you?”

“Why did you never tell me about Peter Cross?”

Silence fell. Their gaze was locked on each other, but something inside Tim broke when he saw the sadness in her grey-blue eyes, the pain in her expression was as though his question had physically wounded her. Slowly she got off his lap and stood before him.

“Who have you been talking to?” Her voice felt cold and distant, as though she was speaking to a stranger.

“Nobody.”

Another uncomfortable silence as she considered his answer for a moment, then raised an eyebrow in realisation.

“You read it then?” He nodded.

“This morning.”

He watched the sadness in her eyes grow, the pain in her expression now masked by shock, anger and disbelief. When she spoke again, it was as though every word pierced him like a knife.

“You _read_ something in a _tabloid newspaper_ that led you to question my feelings for you?”

“Anne, it took me by surprise, I didn’t know what to think. You’d never told me about this man, or what happened between you-“

“And tell me, what happened between us?”

“What? I don’t k-“

“You do know. You read his account, didn’t you? All laid out in black and white on the page, let me hear it.”

“I don’t remember what he sa-“

“Yes you do.” She snapped, her voice getting louder. “It’s stuck in your mind all day, long enough for you to come here and question me. Come on, I’m dying to hear it!”

She’d never been like this with him, and her inability or refusal to see things from his point of view frustrated him.

“He said you told him about the problems you and Mark were having. That he.. he comforted you, and you began an affair.. that he loved you.. and you...” He couldn’t bring himself to say anymore. Looking up at her, he barely recognised her.

“I see. So now you think you’re picking up where he left off?”

“No! But I-“

“You think I do this as some sort of hobby? Fuck the staff when I get bored, until the next one comes along-“

“Of course not! Christ Anne, can’t you try and see this from my point of view? Can’t you see why I would be shocked by reading that? Why I might question your feelings for me?”

“No! I thought you would have trusted me, held my word in higher esteem than something a stranger sold to a tabloid!” She shouted, her voice breaking as she finished, tears forming in her eyes.

“I thought you respected me enough to take me at my word.. _loved_ me enough to know that my feelings for you are real. But obviously not.” She held his gaze for long seconds, tears beginning to fall before she glanced towards the door. “You can go now.”

Tim stood silent. He felt like he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life. He wanted to apologise, to get down on his knees at her feet and beg her forgiveness, but he could see she didn’t want him there, and for good reason. Turning his back on her, he walked down the hallway and out the door, unaware that as he shut it behind him, she sank to the floor and sobbed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim fears he may have lost Anne for good until an unexpected visit gives him reason to hope. Will everything work out for the best?
> 
> *dramatic music intensifies*

Tim was heartbroken. Since Friday evening, he had tried to contact Anne to apologise, but she had refused all of his calls. There had been no answer at her office in Buckingham Palace, nor at her apartment in St. James’s Palace. When he had phoned Gatcombe the first time, making something up about a report from one of her charities that he was a trustee of, her housekeeper had told him that she was out and she would let her know he had called. When he phoned a second time, she told him the princess did not want to be disturbed.

He didn’t phone a third time.

The weekend passed at a snail’s pace, every minute of every hour filled with regret. When Monday finally arrived, he went straight to her office, but she wasn’t there. He went back that afternoon, but once again, it was empty. The fear that she no longer wanted anything to do with him, the thought that he might never hold her again, or tell her that he loved her more than anything, filled him with an emptiness he’d never felt before. It was as though he had just been robbed of any chance of happiness he might have known, and it was all his own fault.

Upon returning to his office, he broke down. He cursed the _Daily Mirror_ , and Peter Cross, and most of all, himself. Had he not taken that stupid article to heart and simply told Anne what he had read, this would never have happened. Instead he had to question her intentions, insulted her by giving her the impression that he thought she had done this frequently, and worst of all, he had hurt her - something he had promised her that he would never do. How could he have been so _stupid_?

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Despite conducting an investiture with Her Majesty, attending several meetings and overseeing numerous tasks and piles of paperwork, his only thoughts had been of Anne.

Now, sitting at his desk once again, he had decided to work long into the night to try and occupy his mind, for he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. His tie and jacket long discarded, he was well into next month’s schedule when three sharp knocks on the door took him by surprise.

“Yes?” He murmured as the door began to open. Looking up, he froze, and for a moment he thought he might have finally lost his mind. Princess Anne stood across from him, the faintest of smiles on her lips. He immediately jumped to his feet.

“I’m so sorry.” It came out before he’d even thought about it.

“Tim, it’s alright-“

“No, it isn’t. I was an idiot- am an idiot, a total bloody fool. I never meant to hurt you, I-“

“Please, it’s alright.” She sat on the couch on the left of his office, patting the space next to her. “Come and sit down.”

He sat beside her as quickly as his legs could carry him, never taking his eyes off of her for fear that he really had lost his mind, and that she might disappear at any moment. Examining her features, he thought he’d never seen her look so vulnerable before.

“It’s my own fault, the whole thing. It’s not something I ever told you about, and your reaction to whatever he said was perfectly understandable. My own reaction on Friday however-“

“You don’t need to apologise, Anne, really.” Her faint smile grew a little, and his heart jumped when she reached across and took his hand in hers, holding his gaze.

“I want you to listen to me. I never told you about Peter Cross because I’m so tired of the whole ludicrous situation. It went on for years after he left, and I thought it had finally blown over, but obviously it hasn’t..” She squeezed his hand then, taking a breath before she spoke again.

“He was my protection officer in 1979, and he _did_ only last a year before they let him go, not because he was “overfamiliar” with me, but because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. I was friendly with him, as I am with all of my protection officers, but he was very easy to talk to, and he liked to flatter me and compliment me all the time.. and when someone shows you attention when you haven’t gotten any from your husband in quite a long time, you can’t help but enjoy it, and at your loneliest, be drawn in by it..”

Tim could see from the way she spoke that thinking back to this was not an enjoyable experience for her, and so he just listened, eager to hear her out.

“I did tell him that Mark and I were having problems, and that I felt lonely, and he would try and make me feel better. But it wasn’t until later that I learned that these talks were being shared by him to other officers, though with a lot of exaggerated detail, and rumours soon started that there was something going on, which was exactly what he wanted them to think. But it backfired, and he was let go. After that, he tried selling his ‘story’ for years. He wanted £1 million for it,” she scoffed, shaking her head at the thought.

“I don’t know what price he got in the end, but what I am sure of is that most of what he told them was invented, probably so the newspaper could get their money’s worth out of him, and vice versa..” She tightened her grip on his hand then, her eyes looking deep into his.

“I _did_ cry on his shoulder. I _did_ let him put his arms around me and comfort me when I was upset, but that was the extent of it. It never went beyond that, and I need you to believe that.”

“You dont have to explain yourself to me-“

“But I do. It’s important to me that you know that I never felt anything for him the way I feel about you. I love you, Tim. Very much.”

It was all he needed to hear to take her in his arms and kiss her deeply, the weekend’s longing coming to the fore along with the jubilation of knowing she was still his. There they remained for what could have been hours, days, centuries, for nothing else seemed to matter, to exist, except each other.

Her face nestled into the crook of his neck, caressing his hair and inhaling his scent, Anne could easily have nodded off to sleep until she heard his voice in her ear.

“So you _love_ me?” His playful tone made both of them chuckle together as she leaned back to look at his smug grin.

“Of course. But you knew that already.”

“I had a sneaking suspicion,” he smirked, taking her hand in his and tenderly kissing it. “I love you too, Anne. Very much. More than I could ever comprehend. I’m so sorry I hurt you-“ but her fingers on his lips silenced him.

“Think nothing of it, and we’ll say no more about it.” He just nodded, before another chuckle left his lips. “What’s so funny?”

“I suppose this means I get to spend the night this weekend?”

Smirking, she leaned down and, pressing her lips to his ear, whispered: “I don’t think I can wait that long, darling.”

Nor could he. And so they didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course it will. *romantic music intensifies*
> 
> Just to reiterate that as always, these are based on real people but the plot is mostly my own creation. I’ve no idea what went on between Anne and her ex protection officer, but I have a feeling that my version of events is closer to the truth than his. The moral of the story is: never trust Peter Morgan.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this is based on real people but the plot is my own. Peter Cross was Anne’s protection officer for a year, and he did “sell his story” to a very shady tabloid newspaper and claim they were intimate, something other staff working there at the time have denied. We’ll never know the truth, but I’d be more inclined to think that you’d say anything for a big sum of money.


End file.
